Peppermints
by OpheliaBleeds
Summary: SLASH. Harry muses on love, lust and obsession.


Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, they belong to the talented JK Rowling.  
  
Author's Notes: Harry quite possibly will seem out of character here, I can only explain his sentiments as the effect that love will have on someone who has never had anyone to call his own before.   
I have no idea where this came from... listening to Queen Adreena does this to me at times...  
  
*********  
  
He tastes like peppermint. Sharp and biting as the mouth that I adore is opened with the urge to give out something other than spite, or hatred. Tongue slick and warm, yet oh so cold as I explore what I have conquered with lust.  
  
//Tongues caressing, intertwining as they cling together in this storm of lust. A feel of cool to the fire, but inflaming it rather than quenching it, making him burn with the most chaste brush of lips.//  
  
His body is cold, pale and yet heated, drawing my warmth in as he lies in repose. My lover, my condemner, my saviour, arm over me as he sleeps, innocent and adored by each limb of mine that inches to be nearer to this object of salvation. Eyes closed, and lashes brushing the smoothness that is his face, eyes shut now as the orbs of grey rest, hiding the ever watchful beauty.   
  
//I have seen so much, you know.  
I know.  
Little of it is good. Much of it consists of suffering, pain, blood and lust. Most of it makes me burn with shame and guilt and desire to never have experienced all of those things. Knew that too?  
I've known you since I wanted you, known you since I dreamed of you, known you since I explored you, known you since we became one, known you since I touched you...  
Known me since you branded me. To want me is to possess me. To hold me is to own me. Yours.  
Mine. always mine//  
  
A tear leaks from the corner of the eye. My tongue involuntarily finds it unerringly, straight to the source of his pain. I swallow it whole, hiding the evidence that he is weak and can feel, doing what he would want even as he lies sleeping. It is gone now, not tasting of horror, not tasting of pain, merely tasting of salt. Salty and wet I roll the taste throughout my mouth, something to remember when I am alone, a memory that he is weak as I am, that he has a heart, that he suffers from nightmares...  
  
//Rape is a nasty word.  
A dirty word.  
A shameful word.  
A secret.  
My secret.  
*Our* secret.  
Salvation in your arms, balm to numb the wounds of fatherly pride.  
To numb the invisible scars of obsession and lust gone horribly wrong.//  
  
His skin tastes of soap. Of something clean and fresh, sweet in that it is so natural. Honeysuckle perhaps, or vanilla, warm and eternal and bringing back memories of summer and sunshine. Ironic really, my moonlight lover, child of darkness and watcher of horrors, smells of... innocence.   
  
//Innocent?  
There is laughter at his presumption.  
Sweet?  
A frown on the face of the adored spectre.  
Innocent is something that I have never been.//  
  
His arms are pale, white and almost translucent in their delicacy. The tracing of his veins is a favourite past time of mine, following the path of the blood. Wondering when his blood enters his heart, when it leaves, why it flows so close to the skin, why I cannot just reach out and taste his essence. Why I cannot simply bite down and take in all that is him, and have him inside me - not for those brief instances in time when lust is in the fore, but for all eternity, a piece of beauty, a fragment of his true self kept inside me and never given away.  
  
//Do you have an aversion to blood, my love?  
No. It is... pretty I suppose. But for me it speaks of pain, of suffering, or memories that I would much rather forget.  
I like it.  
I know you do, you watch mine as I sleep.  
I... do, but how can you know?  
I feel your eyes tracing it, watching it as I am distant, and I can feel your desire for it as if your mind was mine, and we were one in everything.//  
  
I reach his fragile hips, the bones prominent, the skin white and soft, but marked. My brand on his skin, the finger marks as a mark of my possession of his body. Purple. The one colour in the entire expanse of pale skin - the white marks him as innocence personified, now sullied by my careless hands. A branding that will fade, but that he can never escape, an invisible bond between us.  
  
//Harder, Harry!  
But Draco, I don't want to hurt you...  
I don't care, harder, now!  
Harry's hands creep out as if of their own accord and settle on Draco's pale, fragile hips.  
See Harry, *this* is what I want, not gentle, h-a-r-d-e-r.  
Harry's hands fall to grip Draco's hips, to gain something to hold onto as he obeys Draco's wishes.  
Hard.  
Harder.  
Take me.  
Break me.  
Make me yours...  
Mine,  
A whisper, it passes Harry's lips then stronger as he grips hard enough to break.  
Mine!//  
  
Some call our relationship obsession. And I suppose that that would explain a lot. But I, I see it as love. How my heart flutters when I see him, my hands ache to reach out and touch him, how I glorify him and adore him. It scares me on occasion, how much control he has over me, that he could leave and I would be broken into two. I have never had this before, never had someone to love, never had someone to return this love. He is mine. M-i-n-e, I like the way the word sounds, rolling off my tongue. It was lust at first, but now, now it is something else entirely...  
  
//Say it Draco!  
Say what, lover?  
Don't call me that, I'm more than that and you know it.  
Know what Harry?  
That... that...  
That we're 'in love'? Me, in love with the glorious Harry potter? Don't make me laugh.  
Oh don't worry Draco, you'll be admitting it before the evening's out, don't you worry...//  
  
He confessed, eventually, that I was what he wanted. I had known it all along, it was a surety, one of those things that you can always count on, one of those things that will be eternally true...  
  
He tastes of peppermints.   
  
His skin smells of innocence.  
  
And he is *mine*.  
  
  
*fin*  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
